


Speaking in Code

by Wosprig



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agender Aziraphale (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Blend of book and TV canon, But also, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Married Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Mentioned Adam Young (Good Omens), Multi, Nonbinary Warlock Dowling, Other, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Queer Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Relationship Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wosprig/pseuds/Wosprig
Summary: She’d thought about this long and hard. There was no other logical conclusion. Alex inhaled, steepled her hands, and deadpanned, ‘I think Professor Crowley is a demon.’ Marcia sighed a long-suffering sigh.Aziraphale and Crowley spend their retirement continuing what they started back in Eden: providing humanity with the knowledge and tools to make their way in the world. That, and bewildering the occasional curious student.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 177
Collections: Married Professors





	Speaking in Code

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a year-and-a-half in the making but it's finally done! This is my first Good Omens fic and the first fic I've published in a hot minute. Be warned: there's a healthy dose of projection happening with the original characters ahahaha. This is very self-indulgent but I hope you enjoy it as well <3.

She’d thought about this long and hard. There was no other logical conclusion. Alex inhaled, steepled her hands, and deadpanned, ‘I think Professor Crowley is a demon.’ Marcia sighed a long-suffering sigh.

‘Is this about the—’

‘The physical hand-ins! Who does that!? It’s a _computer science_ paper.’ She spluttered as her girlfriend burst into a fit of giggles.

‘Alex,’ she wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye, ‘just because physical hand-ins are _inconvenient_ , it doesn’t mean the professor spawned from _Hell_.’

‘Then why, pray tell, does he make us submit our _code_ assignments _on paper_ at _SEVEN AM_? Only the devil _himself_ would make us drag ourselves out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn to hand in _printouts_ of code.’ The image shook as Alex slammed her fist down on the desk. Even through her tinny earbuds, Marcia’s peals of laughter did wonders to dampen her rage, but her tirade barrelled on nonetheless.

‘I’ve _been_ a tutor. Do you know how _frustrating_ it is grading _physical copies_ of code? You can’t even run it! There’s no way _on Earth_ that it’s more convenient for him.’ She crossed her arms with a huff. ‘He wants to see us suffer.’

‘Maybe he’s just trying to get you to come to class?’ Marcia suggested. She met Alex’s dead stare with a shrug.

‘Our classes are at noon!’ She howled. ‘And the hand-ins are in a box at the maths department’s office on the third floor!’

‘Couldn’t you just, I dunno, turn the assignment in the day before?’

‘Ah, but that’s the brilliance of it, see?’ Alex offered her a manic grin and continued through grit teeth. ‘His assignments are due Mondays, the maths office is closed on weekends, and if there’s someone who can finish a Crowley assignment three days early, I’d love to meet them!’

‘Alex,’ Marcia glanced towards the corner of the frame, ‘it’s Sunday night over there, right?’

‘Yeah?’ Alex blinked, her rant interrupted.

‘Don’t you have one of those assignments-from-Hell to finish?’ Marcia pointed out. Alex swore.

‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow?’ She tried (and failed) to keep the pleading tone out of her voice.

‘Of course. Go finish your assignment,’ Marcia rolled her eyes. Alex blew her a kiss.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart, I love you.’

‘Love you too.’

Alex closed the call with a sigh and turned back to the lines of code taunting her from another window.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ she growled.

* * *

Demon or not, Alex wanted to punch Professor Crowley’s grinning face when she stumbled into her noon lecture clutching her third coffee of the day. She’d been up most of the night squashing bugs before she’d collapsed into bed, having decided she’d done all she could. Morning – only a couple hours later – found her racing the rising sun to the university where she’d wrestled with the campus printers to get her assignment printed before the maths office opened for the day. After braving the scramble to shove her assignment through the slot before Crowley appeared, she’d gone to find a seat near the campus cafe and stare blankly at a wall until her brain caught up to her body and awoke. Coffee helped. She took a sip of the sugary concoction as she pulled out her binder and wrestled down the urge to hurl it at the professor’s head.

If Professor Crowley had one virtue it was that his lectures were engaging — there was an energy in his gesture that was hard to ignore. Though his grasp of his students’ attention may have been helped along by his tendency to point to random students to answer questions. You didn’t want to be caught napping in a Crowley lecture. The professor had no patience for anyone not putting in an effort. Ostensibly, that’s why none of his lecture materials were available online, despite the rest of the comp sci department’s stance on the issue. For her money, Alex suspected it was just another way to piss people off. And the only reason people still turned up to his lectures.

‘So, the KMP algorithm – stands for Knuth-Morris-Pratt. Not a great name, I can relate. But you know who’s a real prat?—’

Today’s lecture _had_ been on search algorithms. It probably would be again soon, whenever the professor was done airing his grievances about the bicycle that almost scratched his precious car. Crowley’s tangents usually only lasted a few minutes. Alex ignored him and instead used the opportunity to catch-up on her note-taking before the tangent concluded.

  


She’d just finished her notes on naïve search algorithms and was heading up her section on KMP when a movement from the rows below her caught her eye. One of the guys a couple rows ahead of her was waving his arms. Alex followed his gaze to a girl on the other side of the theatre who was blinking back, eyebrows furrowed. She glanced back to the guy and narrowed her eyes as he started making lewd gestures. She wanted to open her mouth to say something but before she got the chance, he let out a yell as a well-aimed marker pinged off his head.

‘What the fuck?!’ The boy jumped to his feet, letting out another yell as he slammed his knee on the desk in the process. At the front of the room, Crowley lifted an eyebrow over the top of his sunglasses.

‘If you’re getting up, Mr Morrow, why don’t you do yourself a favour and get out of my lecture hall?’ He drawled. The kid, Morrow, started spluttering.

‘What the fuck?! You can’t do that! I didn’t do anything!’ He protested.

‘Can, and just did.’ He jerked his head towards the door. ‘Exit’s that way.’

‘You can’t just kick me out for no fucking reason! I can get you fired! My dad’s on the school board!’

‘You know,’ Crowley met his eyes, ‘I was a nanny for five years and somehow you manage to be the most immature student I’ve ever had the displeasure of teaching. Out!’

With a litany of swears and threats, Morrow stormed from the room. As the door slammed behind him, the class looked back to where Crowley was leaning against the lectern.

‘So the KMP algorithm is more time-efficient than the naïve search because—’ Alex blinked and scrambled for her pen as Crowley rambled on as though nothing had happened.

The rest of the lecture continued as normal. Crowley went on one more tangent, this time about minor biblical figures. Then, as always, he miraculously managed to wrap up the topic right as the clock hit the hour, despite the interruptions.

Apart from the devil lecturer, the semester was going well. She’d managed to make a few friends through the university’s LGBT network,[1] her midterm tests had come back alright, and she’d even managed to stave off homesickness![2] Which is why she should’ve known something would go wrong sooner or later.

  


* * *

  


She’d been so optimistic! She’d avoided freshers’ flu! She’d made it through two-thirds of the semester with nary a sniffle! But she couldn’t deny it any longer – not as another shiver prickled her skin and left rows of goosebumps in its wake – she was sick. She swore between sniffles. Of all the days to be sick – of all the days – it had to be one when she had a _Crowley lecture_ to attend. She’d been hopeful she’d be able to fend off her symptoms a couple more days and rest over the weekend. She’d been wrong. She groaned and nestled deeper into the blankets – with any luck she’d be able to sleep the fever off today and be back in class tomorrow.

  


* * *

  


She was not lucky. She’d been confined to bed for another day – girlfriend’s orders – after she’d called Marcia to express her – _very justified_ – concern[3] that someone was going to eat the sun.[4] Apparently having fever dreams was _‘a bad sign’_ and _‘what the fuck, you need to SLEEP’._ In hindsight, Alex had to concede she’d had a point. That didn’t help with her current dilemma though.

It had been easy enough to catch up with her other classes thanks to a combination of lecture recordings, online notes, and James’ help, but Crowley’s class? Crowley’s class was the issue. That brought her to her current predicament. With a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and knocked on the office door. A muffled ‘come in’ sounded through the wooden slab. With trepidation, she pushed the door office.

She’d not seen the professor’s office before and hadn’t been sure what to expect. What she’d found was surprisingly ordinary, the same walls and windows as any other office in the building, minimalist furnishings, not much in the way of personal effects –there were a few potted plants, which she found vaguely surprising, and a framed diploma on the wall. In the centre of the room was a sleek black desk topped with two of the shiniest monitors Alex had ever seen, a matching keyboard and mouse, and a startlingly out-of-place tartan mousepad. Behind the desk sat Professor Crowley himself, lounging in a rather ostentatious (and very uncomfortable-looking) desk chair. He raised an eyebrow over his glasses and she realised she’d been staring. Alex fidgeted and did her best to calm her nerves.

‘I’m, I, uh,’ she stuttered. ‘I thought your PhD was in cybersecurity!’ She blurted and immediately winced. Crowley was still for a moment, perhaps blinked behind his sunglasses – she couldn’t tell. She braced herself for the inevitable scolding for wasting his time. It didn’t come. Instead, his features settled into a soft smirk and he replied.

‘It is.’ She glanced again at the PhD on the wall – she definitely hadn’t misread it. She blinked at him.

‘So astrophysics...’ she ventured when he didn’t elaborate.

‘Different PhD.’ He shrugged. ‘So, did you want something or did you just come here to interrogate me about my academic history?’ Alex flushed and looked down at her hands, fidgeting again.

‘Right, yes, actually, I missed the last two lectures – I had the flu see and I, well I wanted to go to class but I— I really wasn’t feeling well and I hoped that maybe you could tell me what topics you covered so I could research them – especially what with exams and...’ she trailed off. Any second now he’d scoff and tell her to get lost, that she should have sent someone to the lecture in her place, that she should have attended regardless, that she— she risked a glance up at the professor. He had leaned forwards in his chair and was rummaging through his desk drawer. Then, with a flourish, he produced a thin stack of papers.

‘Here,’ he said, waving the papers lazily in front of her. Alex took them hurriedly and looked at them. She blinked. Once. Twice. Flipped through the stack. Four pages of neatly typed, well-organised notes. For a moment she flapped her jaw like a fish.

‘I thought... I thought you didn’t—’

‘That I didn’t provide notes?’ He drawled, a hint of amusement in his tone. ‘I don’t, not to anyone who’s not willing to put in the effort to learn, anyway. ‘S not my fault they don’t check.’ He shrugged. ‘But who am I to deny anyone seeking knowledge – be a bit hypocritical of me, that would.’

‘I— thank— thank you,’ she stuttered. Crowley hissed and waved her off.

‘Don’t thank me,’ he growled. ‘Now run along, sounds like you have some studying to do,’ he added, smirking.

As she scrambled from the room, notes clutched to her chest like precious treasures, she couldn’t help but think that maybe Professor Crowley wasn’t such a demon after all.

  


* * *

  


As it turned out, the notes Professor Crowley provided were excellent, not only did they include everything he’d covered in class but they also had additional points explaining each concept in further detail with notes of common mistakes and— Alex wished she had notes like these for every lecture. She glanced at her own folders of notes. The messy scribbles and their sticky note amendments she’d been proud of earlier felt rather inadequate in comparison to the neat and detailed notes she held in her hands. She shook herself, _he’s a professor, of course_ _he knows his subject,_ she scolded. Taking a deep breath, she banished those thoughts and began to read.

  


* * *

  


‘—and they’re so comprehensive! I _wish_ I had notes like that for every topic, it’d make the exam, well, not a _breeze,_ but a helluva lot easier to study for,’ Alex rambled, waving the papers wildly.

‘Why don’t you just ask him for notes on the other topics then?’ Alex froze and looked at the screen, her hands and the notes within dropping onto her lap.

‘I can’t do that, I, you know, I wouldn’t want to bother him needlessly, he’s probably really busy and—’

‘It’s literally his job to help you learn though? Besides, I thought you said no one ever goes to his office hours anyway,’ Marcia pointed out. Alex gulped.

‘Well, yes, but I—’ she sighed. ‘I don’t want him to think I’m too lazy to take my own notes or that I’m just mooching or—’ she cut herself off. ‘I know he hates people who don’t put in an effort and I don’t want him to think I’m not trying.’ Marcia rolled her eyes.

‘Love, a few weeks ago you called this guy a demon and bitched about his teaching for almost half an hour and now you’re worried he won’t like you? Because you’re going out of your way to get extra study material before exams?’

‘Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that but—’

‘Because it is.’

‘ _But!_ Exams are coming up so you know all the people who don’t take notes are gonna be getting desperate and bugging him for notes an—’

‘Girl, if you don’t wanna talk to him, you don’t have to. But if you need these notes to help you study, you definitely should.’

‘No, I’ll be fine with what I have,’ she insisted, slipping the notes into her folder.

‘Aight, if you say so,’ Marcia relented. ‘So… this Crowley guy, what’s his deal?’

‘Not really your type, babe,’ Alex chuckled. ‘Though, speaking of your type…’

The exam period came and went without incident. Alex found herself grateful for her trip to Crowley’s office when she’d found not one but two questions on the lectures she’d missed. She sent a silent message of thanks in the professor’s direction as she wrote out her answers.

Now that exams were over and most students had gone home for the break, Alex found herself waiting alone for results to come back. The break wasn’t long enough to justify a trip home so instead, she’d spent the holidays with James and Jasper at their flat. For the rest of the break, she took to hanging around campus – mostly the library. It was nice having the time to read again without feeling guilty about it. The campus was mostly deserted, she saw the odd professor around, and a grad student or two, but she hadn’t much cause to interact with any of them.

On one memorable occasion, she ran into Professor Crowley as she was exiting the library and he was walking in with what looked and smelled like the greasiest packet of fish and chips she’d ever seen.

‘I don’t think they allow those in the library,’ she’d said dumbly. He’d just flashed her his sharpest grin and said ‘oh, I know’ before sauntering proudly through the doors. The urge to stay and watch the chaos unfold warred with the need to avoid being caught in the blast zone when the librarian exploded for a moment before her stomach rumbled and broke the tie. Fish and chips, she’d decided, sounded great right then.

  


* * *

  


Exam results came back – she’d passed all her classes and was even pleasantly surprised to see her marks on Crowley’s paper. With the results came a steady trickle of students returning from their breaks and the discussion of second-semester courses.

Alex was excited: alongside her required major courses this semester, she was allowed an elective from outside her department. She’d ended up picking a literature paper – which she’d normally avoid (essays? no thanks, she didn’t take comp sci so she’d have to _write_ ) – but chalked up to her hours in the library over the break inspiring a reading mood. She was also in another of Crowley’s classes. She’d had the option between it and another comp sci course and was both dreading and anticipating another semester of his hellish lectures.

  


* * *

  


As it turned out, when given the choice between a course taught by Professor Crowley and an easier, more boring class, nine out of ten students agree: avoid Crowley.[5] The class was significantly smaller than the last one. Between the shrinking cohort and the course being optional, Alex found herself one in twenty. She didn’t mind though, and nor, it seemed, did Professor Crowley. He seemed to relish in the smaller class size, calling on people by – not name, exactly, but by identifiers which, given their consistency, were kind of the same thing[6] – to answer questions. The questions weren’t new but with the smaller class size, they felt more… targeted, more like you could be in the firing line at any moment. Frankly, that bit was a little terrifying. She still had to race to keep up with her notes too. In that regard, not much had really changed, but something about the class felt more direct. It was less like Crowley was just barking information at a room and more like he was barking it at them specifically.

Then there was her lit paper. It was taught by a Professor Fell. Having never taken a lit class before, she hadn’t quite known what to expect going in but she’d found herself pleasantly surprised.

Professor Fell was… eccentric. He looked like a caricature of an Oxbridge professor as imagined by someone who vaguely recalled seeing one in a cartoon once five years ago. He had an infectious enthusiasm for his subject that managed to enrapture even the most disinterested of students. Alex couldn’t help but like him (though this was helped along substantially by the distinctly gay energy rolling off him in waves).

Alex wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up in his class. When the new semester had started, Jasper had dragged her to all sorts of classes when she’d told them she hadn’t decided on an elective yet. Her search had ended after listening to one of Professor Fell’s lectures. As much as she enjoyed reading recreationally, she’d never had much interest in literature as a subject. She’d had quite enough of teachers dissecting every little bit of symbolism from books and taking all the fun of reading them with it. No more essays for her, thank you very much. But Professor Fell did something none of her high school teachers managed and made writing essays almost enjoyable.[7] Rather than just _telling_ them why a story was written the way it was, he had a way of drawing them into the context as though they were actually there and encouraged them to share their interpretations. Their class discussions were always engaging and he made sure everyone got a chance to contribute. His assignments were by no means easy, but they were so rewarding that she couldn’t help but like him regardless.[8]

  


* * *

  


Alex continued attending Crowley’s office hours in the new term. They were a few weeks in when _it_ happened. A seemingly innocuous moment, the consequences of which would haunt her for weeks.

She glanced at her watch.

‘Oh, I need to prepare for Fell’s lecture,’ she mumbled and looked up at the professor. ‘Thank you for all your help, profess—’

‘Hang on, did you say you’re in Fell’s class?’ Alex blinked at the interruption.

‘Yeah, I’m taking Victorian Lit as my elective,’ she elaborated, puzzled. A grin slid onto Crowley’s face.

‘What do you think of him? Bit of a bastard, yeah?’ Alex spluttered, indignant.

‘ _Actually_ ,’ she replied coolly, emboldened in her defence of her favourite professor, ‘I think you’ll find Professor Fell is the very picture of professionalism.’ She met Crowley’s shaded stare and immediately her courage fled. What was she _doing?_ She just talked back to a professor! He was going to get mad and— Crowley burst into laughter.

‘ _Professionalism? Him?’_ As Crowley cackled, Alex felt a blush creep onto her face. First he insulted another professor and now he was laughing in her face! And he had the gall to talk about a lack of professionalism— Alex bit her cheek before she said something she’d regret. Meanwhile, the professor had finally calmed down.

‘Oh, I needed that,’ he wheezed and wiped a tear from behind his sunglasses. ‘Run along now, kid, I don’t need Fell coming after me for making you late.’ She jumped to her feet, cramming her notes back into her bag, and made for the door.

‘Well, thanks again, professor,’ she said tersely. He waved her off.

‘Don’t thank me,’ he grumbled. ‘Say hi to Fell for me though,’ Alex nodded and left the office.

  


* * *

  


Fell’s lecture wasn’t actually for another half hour and by the time Alex had finished skimming her notes and had refreshed herself on the lecture material, she was still several minutes early to the lecture. As he always was, Fell was waiting in the lecture hall and greeted her when she entered.

‘Good afternoon, Miss McKenzie,’ he smiled.

‘Good afternoon, professor,’ she smiled back before adding, ‘Professor Crowley says hi.’ Fell blinked.

‘You’ve been talking to Crowley, have you? I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble,’ he said sympathetically, ‘he really can be quite terrible.’ Alex gaped. She’d heard Fell discuss the worst bigots with barbs no sharper than _‘dreadfully misguided’_ or _‘extraordinarily confused’_. He’d once referenced a _‘awfully inpolite’_ Nazi spy ring. To hear him call someone _‘terrible’_ was unheard of! Her mind raced. What had Crowley done to have earned sweet Professor Fell’s scorn? He raised an eyebrow at her and she realised now the silence was rapidly approaching awkward territory.

‘No, he was fine— no, no problems,’ she managed at length. Fell beamed.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘How do you know Professor Crowley?’ The words escaped before she could stop them. The professor gave her a gentle smile.

‘Oh, just through work, you know how it is,’ he replied off-handedly. Before she could push any further, he’d turned away to greet the inpouring of students through the doors. She took a deep breath, sat down, and pulled out her notes. It really was none of her business how her professors got on. Even if they were her two favourite professors. No need for her to concern herself. She just wouldn’t think about it.

  


* * *

  


‘ And Fell said he was _terrible_ , Marcie! Fell doesn’t say _anyone_ is terrible.’ Alex collapsed back into her chair with a sigh. ‘What if they really despise each other and now Crowley hates me for taking Fell’s class and Fell hates me for—’

‘Girl, you’re overthinking things again,’ Marcia interrupted. ‘Even if they do hate each other, there’s literally no reason for either of them to hate you. They probably don’t even hate each other, it’s probably like, workplace banter or something.’

‘You’re probably right,’ she conceded. Then she smirked. ‘You are the authority on insulting people you like, after all.’

‘I hate you.’

‘I love you too, babe.’ Alex rolled her eyes and blew the camera a kiss. Marcia was adorable when she was grumpy. She scrunched up her nose and Alex wanted so badly to kiss it. She settled for booping her camera lens instead. “So, how was _your_ day, sweetheart?”

She tried not to smile too much as Marcie groaned about her coworkers.

  


* * *

  


‘I told Professor Fell you said hi,’ Alex said when next she visited Crowley’s office.

‘Oh yeah?’ Crowley leaned back in his chair. ‘What’d he say?’

‘He said you were terrible and asked if you’d been causing me problems,’ she replied slowly. Crowley’s grin crept wider and wider across his face until he broke into a cackle.

‘Did he now? I’ll have to thank him.’ The smile looked almost fond, Alex thought, she supposed Marcia was right after all. Suddenly, she realised she was staring and shifted her gaze to the PhD on the wall (herpetology this time). She coughed.

‘Uh, so I had a question about neural networks. Like, I get how they’re structured and how to use them but I’m having trouble wrapping my head around _how_ they work. Every source I look at is either super confusing or is just like “ _just use this Python library, you don’t need to know how it works_ ” and it’s frustrating me to no end!’ She looked over at the professor as she finished and he quirked an eyebrow. She flushed. ‘I’m sorry, I just— I mean, I—’ He waved her off.

‘It’s fine,’ he insisted. ‘How much time’ve you got? We can go through an example if you’ve not got anywhere to be. You seem like the type to learn by doing.’ Suddenly, Alex felt as though those black discs could see right through her.

‘You’re right,’ she breathed. Then, louder, she said, ‘I have time.’ He grinned.

‘Great, so—’ he pulled out a pen and paper from… somewhere… and started scribbling.

Despite his atrocious handwriting, Crowley’s explanation left her with a sense of clarity she’d been missing. It had been about half an hour into the professor’s explanation when at last she’d gotten that moment of understanding and a grin had snuck onto Crowley’s face.

‘You get it?’ He’d asked when she’d frozen mid-sentence.

‘I get it!’ She’d beamed. ‘Finally! Thank you so much for all your help! I’m sorry for taking up so much time.’

‘Pff, ’s nothing,’ he’d insisted. ‘Just doing my job.’ He’d leaned back in his chair with affected nonchalance.

Now, as she was packing up to leave, she caught the PhD in her sight again and frowned. ‘Professor, your speciality is in cybersecurity, isn’t it?’

Crowley gave her an affirmative grunt so she continued.

‘Why are you teaching a machine learning paper then? Wouldn’t it normally be taught by a machine learning researcher?’ She asked. ‘Not,’ she added hastily, ‘that I don’t think you’re qualified! It’s just, back home all the AI papers are taught by machine learning specialists.’

‘My research is on exploiting security flaws in neural networks,’ Crowley laughed. ‘You know, tricking neural nets into thinking pandas are gibbons, or stop signs are trees – if you wanna spice things up for self-driving cars.’ He grinned. ‘Needed a pretty solid grasp of machine learning for that and well, here I am.’

‘Oh, that sounds super neat! And, uh, dangerous.’ Crowley chuckled.

‘Mostly it’s just a lot of numbers,’ he shrugged.

‘Still, numbers can’t be too boring for you, I mean, astrophysics, computer science, whatever other PhDs you’ve hoarded, those are pretty math-heavy,’ she pointed out.

‘You’ve got me there, flu girl,’ he cackled. She smiled back. ‘Yeah, I get by alright, there are definitely worse things to put up with. Great invention, really, numbers. Before it was all “ _how many goats do you have?” “More than sheep but fewer than ox”._ It was like a great bloody logic puzzle.’ Alex blinked.

‘Yeah, must have been weird…’ she said. ‘Were numbers not invented before farming though?’

‘Nah, you lot came up with numbers so you could keep track of your bloody goats,’ he replied offhandedly, ‘can’t load animals into your boat two-by-two if you don’t know what two is.’

‘Oh, you’re religious?’ Alex blurted out; _that’s surprising_ , she didn’t.

‘Nah, don’t go in for the whole organised religion business. God and I don’t get on great these days anyhow.’ Crowley shrugged.

‘Right,’ she mumbled; fiddled with her bag; checked her watch. ‘Well, thank you again for your help, but I’d better get on now.’

‘Yeah, yeah, off you go,’ he waved her out.

  


* * *

  


The first time she saw Professors Fell and Crowley together, it was less than a week later and Alex was in the library. Ostensibly, she was working on her Python assignment but in reality, she had long since been distracted by her phone. Right as she was retweeting some particularly cute art, she heard Fell’s voice drift through the shelves.

‘I keep telling you, Crowley, food is not permitted in the library—’

‘Far be it from you to break the rules for food, of all things.’

‘ _It’s not permitted in the library_.’ Fell’s voice was firm. ‘And it’s our duty as educators to set a good example for the students.’

‘Whatever you say, O Righteous Educator. For my money, you just don’t want grimy hands near your books.’ Alex could see them now as they emerged from the aisle nearest her. Crowley had his hands jammed into too-small pockets as he shot the literature professor a mocking grin.

Professor Fell sniffed haughtily. ‘Well, it goes without saying, _my_ books would _never_ be kept in such a state. Never mind the food, have you seen the state of the spines in this library? Not to mention the sweat and the tearing of pages and— oh, it’s simply not to be borne.’

‘That’s m’point! What difference does a little food make at this point? No harm in sneaking in an apple danish or two, is there?’

‘Crowley! It’s the _principle_ of the matter. We have to set an example—’

‘I _am_ setting an example, _Professor Fell_. If the rules don’t make sense, why _shouldn’t_ the students break them? You _know_ where blindly following the rules gets you.’

‘And _you_ know how questioning them ends,’ Fell snipped. ‘Regardless, in this case, the rule is a perfectly logical one to keep crumbs out of books – a cause which I support wholeheartedly.’

‘Oh you _bastard_ ,’ Crowley hissed as they strolled out of earshot. ‘You know if I hadn’t…’

  


* * *

  


Once she’d seen them together once, it was like she couldn’t stop noticing them: at the campus cafe, the library, the corridors, even popping into each other’s lectures. Everywhere she looked, there was Professor Fell, and there was Crowley, tagging along beside him. Always bickering about something or another. Alex couldn’t resist snooping a little, but their conversations were nigh impossible to follow between the metaphors, in-jokes, and the way they seemed to jump from topic to topic, it was almost like they were speaking their own coded language.

Once, she had passed them on her way out of one of her midterms. _‘Aziraphale,’_ Crowley had said, ‘it’s called a _bicycle_.’ That was odd, she’d thought. She was _sure_ Fell’s given name was Alexander.[9] So what did ‘Aziraphale’ mean? Maybe it was part of their code? She made a mental note to look into it.[10]

She ran into each of them on their own, too: Crowley she saw whenever she attended his office hours (something that happened with increasing frequency in the lead-up to midterms); Fell she ran into at an LGBT network book event. She hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Fell much, he had been busy offerring recommendations of queer literature to a gathering crowd, nor had she the chance to ask either professor what ‘Aziraphale’ meant (not without admitting she’d been eavesdropping, anyway). Neither James nor Jasper knew either, though Jasper thought it sounded vaguely familiar.

She didn’t see much of Fell nor Crowley over Easter break. She did bump into Crowley once, but he barely acknowledged her, acting even moodier than was usual. Given he and God ‘didn’t get on much’, she wondered if he had bad memories associated with the holidays. Though he seemed fine when she’d seen him around Christmastime, so maybe he was just having a bad day. Alex wasn’t particularly religious herself, she was a secular Christian at best. Still, that didn’t stop her from using the holidays as an excuse to eat sweets, and if she cried a little over the familiarity of hot-cross buns,[11] that wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Holidays over and done with, she returned to her classes with the usual burst of energy that came after the breaks. Once that faded, she settled back into the comfortable rhythm she’d grown accustomed to. She continued attending Crowley’s office hours semi-frequently and, if her midterm results were anything to go by, it was working. Marcia had said she was proud of her for asking for help and she preened under the (admittedly minimal) praise. She’d almost managed to still her curiosity about Crowley and Fell. Almost.

  


* * *

  


Alex did a double-take as she exited the lecture hall. Along with the regular crowd waiting for the next lecture was a teenager. Normally, she’d find this unremarkable – plenty of students looked or were young – but looking at this kid she couldn’t shake the notion that she was looking at Crowley in miniature.

There wasn’t much resemblance physically, straight dark brown – almost black – hair versus the professor’s flaming waves; softer features than Crowley’s sharp angles. But there was something in the way the kid held themselves, the way they slouched casually against the wall, thumbs hooked through their belt loops that was 100% Crowley. And then there were the clothes: this kid had obviously solved the mystery of where the Professor sourced his all-black too-tight wardrobe. Black skinny jeans hugged their legs, a black jacket hung around their shoulders and they wore round (black) sunglasses on their nose.[12] They completed the look with an effortless androgyny that Alex _wished_ she could pull off.

The kid glanced up as the hall behind her swung open again and Crowley sauntered out. They pushed off from the wall and strolled forward to meet the professor.

‘Heya hellspawn!’ Alex blinked as the normally grumpy professor broke into a grin[13] and ruffled the kid’s hair. The kid groaned as they smacked Crowley’s hand away and adjusted the messy bun atop their head.

‘Na _nny_ ,’ they whined. Alex couldn’t help but stare. Crowley had said he worked as a nanny for a few years but Alex had never imagined it’d be _true_ (which begged the question: how many of the professor’s other wild stories were true?). As Crowley turned his eyes on her, she rushed to pick her jaw up off the floor but apparently she wasn’t quick enough.

‘What?’ Crowley snapped.

‘Nothing!’ She squawked. ‘I just— I didn’t— is that—’

Crowley rolled his eyes (or so she assumed, it was hard to tell with the sunglasses) but apparently decided to take pity on her.

‘This is Warlock, my godkid,’ he explained. ‘I worked for their parents for a decade or so.’

‘As... as a nanny?’ She ventured. Crowley smirked.

‘Nah I was only a nanny for the first five years, I was a private tutor for six,’ he chuckled.

‘And a waiter for a day,’ Warlock added with a smirk of their own.

‘Better than a magician,’ Crowley quipped back and Warlock laughed. Alex had a distinct impression that there was a joke she was missing.

‘Speaking of our magician, we should get going. He and Adam are probably waiting.’ Crowley spun on his heel and waved over his shoulder. ‘See ya ’round, flu girl,’ he said and waltzed off down the hall without waiting for a reply. Warlock gave her an apologetic shrug before following hot on his tail.

  


* * *

  


Exams were coming up again, and while Alex was feeling pretty confident when it came to her comp sci papers,[14] she was a little anxious about Fell’s paper. As much as she liked reading, literature analysis was never her thing. Subtext always seemed to elude her. Which is how she found herself standing outside Fell’s office door at 6AM on a Saturday.[15] She knocked and then let herself in once she heard the professor’s “come in” drift through the door. Fell put down a book as she entered.

‘How can I help you, dear?’ He asked as he folded his reading glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket. He was irritatingly chipper for this early in the day.

‘Hi, yes, I was hoping I could ask you a bit about _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ before exams. I’m having a little trouble with it.’ She scratched the back of her neck and looked down at the desk. It was hardwood, she thought, it was hard to tell for sure given the number of books and papers covering it. The entire room was crowded, actually, it was kind of cozy. She glanced back up at the professor. ‘It’s just, I know it’s a metaphor, I get that. I’m just worried I’m missing a lot of the nuance.’

She sighed and continued. ‘And I can’t figure out if I’m supposed to feel sympathetic towards Dorian at all. If I am, I’m having trouble doing so! He’s awful! He’s not as bad as Henry at least but that’s not saying much. But I don’t know if I’m supposed to sympathise with him. Obviously his actions are awful, otherwise the painting wouldn’t decay like it does, but would I find him sympathetic if I were a white man in the 1890s? White men have sympathised with worse.’ She hissed, and then winced. ‘No offense, professor.’

‘None taken, I’m not one, in any case,’ Fell chuckled. ‘My godson expressed a similar opinion over lunch the other day actually, he—’

‘Sorry, you’re not what?’ She asked and then winced again. She needed to stop interrupting people, it was becoming a habit.

‘Oh, I’m not a man, dear,’ he laughed. Alex blinked, looked the professor up-and-down, blinked again.

‘You’re— you’re not?’

‘Oh, certainly not. I never did go in for that whole _gender_ business. I leave that to my husband.’ He chuckled and had she not been spiralling, Alex might have noticed the lovesick smile that flashed across his features.

‘But… you look like a man, and you use he/him pronouns,’ she frowned, ‘...don’t you?’

Fell gave her a patient smile. ‘I do use he/him pronouns. As to looking like a man, that’s not quite true. There are men that look like me, and there are men that look like you, but I don’t look like a man any more than you do. I look like me, and that’s all there is to it.’

‘And… and that’s allowed?’ she asked.

‘It is.’

‘Don’t you get tired? Of people assuming you’re a man?’ Alex would, she thought, had she been in his place.

‘People assume all manner of things, dear, their ignorance matters less to me than my own sense of self. People assume I’m a gay man because of the way I look but I know who I am, and I know who I love, and that’s more important to me than any label a stranger assigns me in their own head.’

Alex’s mind was racing. You could _do_ that? She needed to think. Reconsider. She told the professor as much. He smiled knowingly.

‘Of course, dear child, and take as much time as you need. There’s no deadline.’

  


* * *

  


‘...And then he said—’

Marcia was talking but Alex was barely listening. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute. Doubts and insecurities swirling and forming into a spinning whirlpool of anxiety. _What if I’m just faking it? What if I just want to feel special?_ She clawed at her scalp. _But Fell said— he said it was okay. And I don’t doubt_ he’s _who he says he is. So why is it so much harder when it’s me?_ She twisted her ponytail around her fingers. _Should I tell Marcie? I should— I need to tell someone, if I don’t I think I’ll drive myself mad. But..._

‘...Marcie, I —’ Alex tugged at her hair. Took a deep breath. _Speaking makes it real._ ‘I don’t think I’m a woman.’

‘Oh?’ Marcia shifted, giving her her full attention. Alex felt a bit bad for interrupting her but continued.

‘I’m definitely not a man, but... I don’t really vibe with being a woman either. I just— I dunno, I’ve never really felt… attached..? To being female. Like, I remember reading once that when trying to empathise with a trans person, you should imagine what it would feel like if you were trapped in the opposite sex’s body. But I could never manage, I just felt like… if I’d been born with a different body, that would just be the body I had, same as now, y’know?’ She flapped her hands wildly.

‘Do you want me to use different pronouns for you?’

‘No, I think she/her is fine. I’m fine with looking feminine and with she/her pronouns so I was worried that… I dunno, I was faking it? I just wanted to be non-binary because I thought it was neat? I’m not sure. But I was talking to Professor Fell and he said he’s… agender, I guess? Mostly he just said he’s not a man. But he looks like a—’ She took a deep breath. ‘... _He looks masculine_ and uses masculine pronouns so maybe it’s okay if I’m like that too? He said he didn’t mind people assuming he was a man because he knew he wasn’t and that… that was nice, I think,’ she trailed off, hands settling back into her lap.

‘I’m happy for you. I love you discovering more about yourself.’

‘Thanks, Marcie.’

‘So your professor is non-binary too?’

‘Yeah, he said he didn’t ‘go in for gender’, said he left that to his—’ Alex paused. ‘...to his husband. He has a husband— that didn’t even _register_ when he was talking. I wonder what his husband’s like.’

‘Ha! Maybe it’s Crowley!’

Alex laughed, incredulous. ‘Where the hell’d you get that idea?’

‘They have banter! You said so yourself.’ Marcia grinned. ‘Plus, opposites attract, right?’

‘Just because _you_ insult everyone you love, that doesn’t mean _everyone_ does.’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no way _Crowley’s_ his husband.’

  


* * *

  


Identity crisis out of the way, Alex realised she never got any answers from Fell and resigned herself to attending his Tuesday office hours. He’d greeted her with a smile and they’d talked for most of an hour[16] before she went home and collapsed into bed for a few hours before she had to get up to study. Her first exam was Wednesday and she wanted to be prepared. It was Crowley’s paper and no matter how many office hours she’d attended, she wasn’t going to take any risks.

She ran into the man himself on her way to the exam room Wednesday morning. He gave her a grin and said ‘good luck, flu kid’ as they passed, which left her pondering the new nickname for all of five minutes before she was distracted by the much more pressing matter of exam prep again.

Leaving an exam feeling confident was always a dangerous game. On the one hand, she was fairly sure she’d done alright, that her prep had paid off. But on the other hand, she was very much in the minority, confidence-wise. What if she’d completely misinterpreted the questions? What if her answers were entirely wrong and she failed completely? She’d fail horribly. She tried to stamp those worries down, the confidence too, while she was at it. It didn’t pay to have expectations before the results came out. That only led to disappointment.

So par for the course, as exams go.

Her remaining exams went fairly well too, she thought. She had a little trouble with the essay portion of Fell’s exam but she felt much better about her answer than she would’ve had she not talked to him.

Exams over and done with, she, James, and Jasper went out to dinner to celebrate surviving the year and to discuss plans for the break. James and Jasper sat together across the table from her. It felt a little like she was having dinner with her parents. Except younger. And gayer. By the time they were leaving, Jasper was tipsy and snuggled up against James’ shoulder. Alex was a little jealous. When she got home, she called Marcie and they talked until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

  


* * *

  


She double-checked the map on her phone. She was supposed to be meeting the guys around here somewhere. Grumbling, she sent another message to the group chat. _Where are you???_

She took a deep breath and resisted the urge to curl up and cover her ears. Focusing on keeping her breathing steady, she scanned the crowd again. No sign of James or Jasper but… she blinked. There was at least _someone_ she recognised.

Crowley stood out in his usual blacks among a sea of rainbow colours, but shuffling closer Alex could see touches of green, grey, white, and purple on his wrists. He acknowledged her with a nod as she approached. As he moved, she noticed a flag draped over his shoulders. She thought recognised it from her googling session after her conversation with Fell but she wasn’t sure.

‘Professor Crowley, is that—’

‘Crowley, dear girl, they had the loveliest crepe stand over—’ Professor Fell burst out of the crowd, a crepe in each hand. He startled a little seeing her. ‘Oh! Hello, Alexandra! How are you?’

‘Professor Crowley, are you genderfluid?!’ She blurted before her manners caught up with her mouth. She flushed. ‘Sorry! I don’t mean to be rude, I was just... surprised!’

Professor Fell’s eyes scrunched as he gave her a gentle smile. ‘I told you my wife was fond of gender, didn’t I?’ He said and turned to Crowley. ‘Here’s yours, dear.’

‘Thanks, angel,’ Crowley grunted and took the crepe from his hand, ‘’preciate it.’

‘Not a problem at all, my dear.’

Alex, meanwhile, was still caught on ‘wife’. She ran through her interactions with both Fell and Crowley and something about their dynamic clicked into place.

‘Hwha— you’re—’ Crowley was smirking at her. ‘Professor Fell, are you—’

‘Hm? What, dear?’ Fell smiled.

‘Are you a magician?’ She blurted. Fell blinked. Crowley stared for a moment before doubling over laughing, almost dropping her flag in the process. Fell frowned at his wife and sniffed.

‘As a matter of fact, I am. Though _some_ people don’t appreciate it.’

‘Angel, you couldn’t even keep _children_ entertained,’ Crowley wheezed. Fell huffed.

‘Those _children_ were cruel little monsters. It’s a miracle no one was killed after they got their hands on those guns.’ Alex squeaked, but Fell paid her no mind. ‘You were very nearly discorporated! _And_ they nearly ruined my coat, hurling around food like that.’

‘Oh, the suit would’ve been the real tragedy,’ Crowley drawled, ‘never mind silly old me.’

‘Naturally I’d miss you very much dear, but that coat is _antique._ I’ve had it for a very long time.’

‘And the window? Whose fault was that?’

‘Well, certainly not mine. Whyever those _Americans_ thought they needed to bring firearms to a child’s birthday is beyond me.’

Alex’s phone buzzed.

‘Warlock seemed to enjoy it well enough.’ Crowley was grinning at her husband.

James had answered.

He sniffed indignantly. ‘Your demonic influence, I’m sure.’

She should go meet him.

‘Whatever happened to “lending weight to a moral argument”?’

She didn’t want to interrupt...

‘ _In the right hands_ , which those of eleven-year-old children certainly aren’t.’

But...

‘Um, I should get going. I have to meet my friends,’ Alex shuffled on the spot. ‘Nice seeing you both.’

‘Oh, of course, lovely seeing you, dear,’ Fell flushed. ‘Mind how you go.’

Crowley grinned. ‘See ya, flu kid,’ she said.

Alex smiled back and wiggled her way back into the mass of people, the sound of her professors’ bickering was swallowed by the crowd.

  


* * *

  


Jasper only knew Crowley from her and James’ stories but he grinned when she told them about her encounter with her. James was less enthused. ‘She’s still a grouchy old arse,’ he said.

Jasper swatted him with the pink, white, and blue flag around his shoulders. ‘You’re just mad she _barely_ gave you a C,’ he teased. ‘She seems sweet enough around ol’ Fell.’

‘Oh she’s _definitely_ a grouchy old arse,’ Alex cackled. ‘Even around Fell, if you ignore the heart-eyes. She was wearing her sunglasses but they’re just _that_ powerful.’

‘Oh like you don’t give Marcia heart-eyes every time you call her,’ James scoffed.

‘You know what they say about glass houses, James?’ She stuck her tongue out.

‘ _I_ don’t — ‘ Jasper gave him a peck on the lips.

‘Yeah you do,’ he said. James blushed furiously.

‘Whatever, let’s just go, I wanna look at the stalls,’ he grumbled.

‘Ooh, yes! And while we’re in Soho, I wanna show you Fell’s old bookshop!’

‘Fell has a bookshop?’ Alex blinked.

‘Yeah, and it’s _notorious_. I had a friend who said they bought a book from him once, but I don’t believe it.’

‘Why?’

‘First, it was a _miracle_ if you could find the shop open. He had the most ridiculous hours. Finding anything in the shop was a _nightmare_ too. _If_ there was an organisational structure, Fell was the only one who understood it. And even if you _wanted_ to figure it out, Fell would chase you out if you spent more than a couple minutes in there. It was a book hoard more than a shop.’ Jasper grinned. ‘It hardly opens any more, with Fell teaching, but the shop’s still there.’

Suddenly, another old conversation clicked in her head and Alex burst into giggles. The boys exchanged glances.

‘Alright there, Alex?’ James asked.

‘Crowley—’ she wheezed ‘—Crowley laughed at me when I said Fell was professional. I thought he was insulting him but—’ she coughed ‘—that’s the least professional thing I’ve ever heard.’

  


* * *

  


She flew back home for the summer[17] break. Throughout it, more and more things clicked into place in Alex’s head under the lens of her professors’ relationship. Some of them were quite sweet – like realising how Crowley had known to adapt their nickname for her so shortly after her conversation with Fell – others, made her a little mad. At one point, she interrupted Marcia to gasp ‘oh that _bastard!_ “Through work” indeed!’ out of the blue, which required some explanation. More than once, she wondered how many times she’d misgendered Crowley, even just in her head, and winced. She resolved to ask for Crowley’s pronouns whenever she ran into them from then on. As it happened, she ran into Fell and Crowley together a few times before she left and every time she could have kicked herself. Now that she _knew_ , it seemed obvious they were together. She took comfort in the fact that no one else seemed to realise either.

Back home, her sisters loved the souvenirs she’d bought them at Pride but were more interested in doing their own things than listening to her stories – not that they believed all of the ones she _did_ tell. That was alright though, Alex thought, it took her a while to believe them, too.

  


* * *

  


  1. One of them, James, was in her major and had taken one of Crowley’s papers the previous year so they bonded over griping about his ridiculous expectations. His boyfriend, Jasper, just seemed to be glad he had someone else to complain at. [back to text]
  2. She was almost glad she couldn’t see the stars for the light pollution though, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle them being _wrong._ [back to text]
  3. Read: panic. [back to text]
  4. ‘It’s a living creature! They can't _do_ that!’ she had argued as Marcia tried to reassure her it would be fine. [back to text]
  5. James agreed too, he thought she was insane for taking another of Crowley’s papers. [back to text]
  6. Alex was ‘Flu Girl’ which was embarrassing to say the least but she wasn't about to go to the professor and _complain._ [back to text]
  7. Almost. It _was_ still essay writing after all. [back to text]
  8. Even if his habit of referring to authors like they were personal friends was a little odd. [back to text]
  9. She’d seen it on the course listing at the beginning of the term. Given they shared the name, it was memorable. [back to text]
  10. Which is to say, she forgot about it for months before something reminded her of it months later which led to a fruitless google search in the middle of a fruit-full grocery aisle. [back to text]
  11. Her dad always made hot-cross buns for lunch on Good Friday back home. Not that she was homesick, of course. It was just… nostalgic. [back to text]
  12. Between the jacket and sunglasses, Alex wondered exactly what weather they were dressing for, but given she was from a town where the primary fashion statement was puffer jackets and short-shorts, she was really in no position to judge. [back to text]
  13. A real, genuine, smile – far removed from the wicken grins and smug smirks he threw around in class. [back to text]
  14. Even Crowley’s! Turns out, regular visits to office hours helped. Who knew! [back to text]
  15. Given her other option was 3AM on a Tuesday, she took what she could get. Even though she hated being up this early. [back to text]
  16. She wondered if he held his office hours at 3AM so that any student who came would be too tired and/or desperate to comment on the large black snake he had curled around him for the entirety of said hour. Alex certainly hadn’t. [back to text]
  17. Winter, technically, hemispheres are weird like that. [back to text]



**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Alex's conversation with Aziraphale about his gender is about the conversation I had with myself when, about halfway through writing this, I realised I was non-binary. 
> 
> I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge at least a few of the fics that inspired this one. There are so many that influenced this in some way or another, but special mentions must be made to [nieded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nieded/)'s [South Downs University](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529294) series — the first entry in which is what sparked the initial desire to write this fic — and to [Ghostinthehouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/)'s [Demon and Angel Professors](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962) series, which has been an ongoing inspiration throughout writing this. Without those two series, among many others, I'd never have written this. I also have to give shoutouts to my girlfriend, @DuskXJolt — who both provided inspiration for Marcia and put up with me continuously sending her snippets to read over — and to my friend @crocheted_socks, who pushed me to actually finish this after a year.
> 
> Please do let me know if you enjoyed! :)


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